


The Crown

by doublejoint



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 22:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: She is proud; she is regal, but she will be tamed--just enough.





	The Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriamKenneath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/gifts).

> I had so much fun writing this! This started off as 'seduction to the dark side' but then it veered a little bit away from that...I still tried to keep a bit of that in (as well as nods to a couple of your other prompts) so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> \--
> 
> contains nonconsensual mind reading, a bit of dubcon touching (not enough to tag), objectification, callbacks to canonical trauma
> 
> spoiler warnings in the end notes

She had felt her twin’s death on Endor, a rumble and a crackle, the brother she’d always known she’d had but who was still in many ways a stranger to her--gone. A scream in her mind, and then a void. The first thing she is conscious of with the Force (truly conscious, and aware that she is) is this--for if she had been before this, Sidious would have felt it from across the galaxy, the disturbance like a crude rip through the fabric, like Vader killing Dooku, Vader burning on Mustafar, Vader slaughtering the Sand People on Tatooine. 

So really, what would anyone (would Sidious) expect her to do? What does it matter when the Rebel Fleet has been destroyed, that she might be lost too? She will come out of this alive, though; that much she can feel and that much she can trust. That much she is trusting, and though Sidious needs this to pass he will exploit it as long as he can.

Sidious smiles, barely turning up the corners of his mouth. Yes, the daughter, so much like Vader, but her anger tightly harnessed despite her lack of training and raw strength--a better Sith than Vader would have ever made, even before Mustafar. For Vader had never intended anything, clouded by hurt and confusion when he had pointed a blue blade at Sidious’s throat. He had not truly felt the urge to kill, hesitating and deliberating the same way he had against Skywalker hours ago, here.

Young Organa holds her blaster steady, her only intention to succeed; Vader watches, the grating sound of his slowly-failing life-support system echoing across the chamber. It was not built to help him through stress this strenuous, but he needs to die. There is no use in wasting resources when it will postpone the inevitable. Organa will not win (will not achieve what she, in this moment, considers victory) but that is through no fault of her own, no wavering in her mind. Yes, good girl.

“Do you really want to kill me?” says Sidious. “When it was he who made you watch as your home was destroyed?”

“Under your oversight,” Organa spits.

“He murdered the woman who gave birth to you. He watched as your brother died.”

“At your hands.”

Sidious reaches into her mind (oh, how poor her shields are). The images of Vader are right there, near the surface. Vader in a garish dining room catching blaster bolts with his glove, but--she does not need a weapon. Vader never did, after all. Vader, holding her back, Alderaan exploding, a young man dropped into a carbonite freezer at Vader’s orders. Yes, Sidious is cruel, but personally--what has he done to her that is worse than Vader? Kill her brother? Vader brought him here to be slaughtered.

She resists, and Sidious clenches his teeth, nearly spitting. She is worse than her brother, but more valuable, far more. She is all the more aware of her anger (simmering under the surface, on the burner of her little rebellion) and in control of it--far more than Vader was, at his most reckless and impulsive. She is the most remarkable parts of Vader and of that fool Amidala, without the same twisted devotion they had shared between each other, a golden wrench thrown into the plan. 

“Kill him,” says Sidious. “And join me.”

Her eyes narrow. Vader could block her shot. She has never used a lightsaber, has never known she could reach through the Force and pull it to her with her mind. 

The thought dawns on the girl--she picks up on things quickly;. She is not yet precise enough to destroy the circuits keeping Vader alive, but she can crush his windpipe so that the oxygen being pushed in is of no consequence; she can claw at his insides, crudely, wielding the force the way a child wields a heavy, blunt instrument. But this is only the start. Sidious pushes at her with the Force, thinks of power, of thrones and planets and fools who listen to her, a sword of red light in each hand, the crown promised to her that she never dared lust for openly. The burden is hers to bear, and she is good at that, is she not? This is a test, but it is not hidden from her; she knows it for what it is. 

Organa takes a deep breath.

“Good…” Sidious croons. “Good.”

Organa’s eyes snap open; her hands snap up. She hesitates.

Sidious frowns. Perhaps he had thought too soon. Perhaps she is too much like her father. She has come to him; she has come too far. If you go down the dark path, it will dominate your destiny; she has chosen this already. There is no going back. A ruler shows conviction. 

“Kill him,” Sidious snaps. 

Organa hesitates. Vader slowly raises his remaining hand, perhaps barely lucid, perhaps asking for mercy, giving surrender.

“Vader does not deserve your mercy,” says Sidious. “It is a tool of the weak. Your brother tried to show him the same.”

He is dead; she can see his body, lying near Vader’s.

She will regret not killing Vader. He will die anyway and his death will be meaningless.

Organa clenches her fist; the force flows through it, toward Vader. Ironic, that he should die at the hand of his own child, when he had assured her deliverance by snapping her mother’s neck in the same way. Vader’s suit begins to beep, signaling a cutoff in the flow of oxygen. Organa holds her position. Vader’s hand falls; his body slumps. The life begins to leave him, what little there is left.

Organa feels it when it is over, but her hand remains clenched. The hate flowing through her is strong, centered. She is like a planet in the Force, gathering it and pulling it around her, strong. Yes, the power is attracted to her the way she is attracted to it. She would have never worked as a Republic senator, working within the system, and she has outgrown the rebellion. She is not fit to be an empress yet, but she will someday start the dynasty that will ensure their immortality.

Her eyes are yellow when she turns around. 

Good.

“Come here,” Sidious says.

Organa comes. She is proud; she is regal, but she will be tamed--just enough. 

“My new apprentice. My new consort.”

Yes, she is perfect for this--he caresses her through the Force, and she leans into the phantom touch only in her mind. Physically, she still stands straight. He can feel her anger, her hate, the way she struggles to redirect it back toward him, but he nudges her back toward Vader, nudges her thoughts back to his body next to Skywalkers. And then to the arousal that threatens to spill over deep within her.

Yes, by the time this battle station is complete, he will have an empress, full of potential for a great many things.

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler warnings: leia kills vader, the rebels lost in ROTJ
> 
> as much as Sidious and Yoda disagree, I think they'd concur on the whole dark-side-dominating-your-destiny thing (for very different reasons) I've been thinking a lot lately about how most of Leia's life she's been operating outside of the mainstream political framework, and how that could relate to Anakin talking about how great a dictatorship would be...so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for Sidious to manipulate that when she's at her most vulnerable.


End file.
